Am I ready for this?! ......No. ..... Yes. ..... Maybe. ....Wait. What was the question?

Am I ready for what? ... This blog that isn't a blog (in my opinion), but a journal of what is going on in this journey called life? Life itself? This weight loss surgery that I am desperately attempting to prepare for?

This blog I'm definitely not ready for, but I'm going to do it anyway because maybe by getting over some of my fears, I'll be able to conquer others and hopefully inspire other people to conquer their own inner chicken. Yes, I said inner chicken. It was something that I heard at my youngest son's poetry slam a few months ago and it just stuck with me. Why be afraid of writing a blog? Ummm...because I'm not a very good writer? Because...people can be downright cruel? Because I may be judged for writing what I write? There's a number of things that would make my inner chicken quiver in its boots. (Yes, my inner chicken wears big, heavy, poop kickers! and those poop kickers regularly kick my big behind)

Life itself? Who the heck is ready for life itself? Why the heck do you think babies come into this world kicking and screaming? They want back in!!! They are screaming "Put me back in! Put me BACK IN! This place is cold, and loud, and bright, and scary! Put me back where it's quiet, and warm, and comfy, and safe." Some babies grow out of that. Those are the ones that grow into little dare devils. The ones that will give their mothers figurative heart attacks by climbing to the tallest point (quite literally) of the playground where mommy can't reach them and sit down to seemingly ponder the world around them. Yes. This is what my oldest did to me when he was three. He was the one that came a little over a month early (though he tried for 2 months early). Didn't make a sound when he was born. (scared the crap out of me because I thought he was born dead or something) Made up for that fact profusely later (as evidenced in Blockbuster video where he screamed so loud and long that the entire place came running to find out what I was doing to the poor child). And now wants to go into the Navy after he graduates high school in a few months. And now my middle child, my little girl, is wanting to go to a college prep school so she can be a veterinarian at the ripe old age of 12 and the youngest of my 3 big brood is about to start middle school, leaving behind the last remnants of elementary school that I'll have to deal with forever. Am I ready for life itself? NOOOO!!! Put me back in! PUT ME BACK IN!!!!! I'M NOT READY!!!! Yeah, that's going to happen. .... NOT!

Am I ready for this weight loss surgery that I'm desperately trying to prepare for? Yes. Unequivocally Yes. Without a shadow of a doubt I am ready for this. I know I'm ready. I think I'm ready. Am I ready? You know...I hope so. It's scary. Not the surgery itself. I'm not scared about that. This surgery will be number 14 in a long line of surgeries. Everything from my first surgery at age 5 to remove rectal polyps to having my tonsils and adenoids out the day before I turned 6 to a complete hysterectomy a little over 3 years ago because of major pain I was having in my gut that turned out to be IBS. So I'm no stranger to having surgery. What I'm scared of is not succeeding yet again.

I went on my first actual Dr. supervised diet at the age of 9. I've been yo-yo dieting ever since. Over 30 years of yo-yo dieting. I've tried everything it seems like. I've tried Advocare, Herbalife, Atkins, Cabbage soup, the diabetes diet, Alli, Phenergan, Slim fast, weight watchers...lots of different diets. It was after I stepped on the scale at the Dr. office in July of 2013 and it read 310 pounds that I finally had had enough of this mess. I haven't been below 200 pounds in 18 years. (i was 198 when I got pregnant with my oldest son who will be 18 in a few months). As soon as I left the Dr. I went directly to Best Buy and bought a FitBit and an Aria scale. Best money I had spent in years. I actually got down to 246 pounds in about a years time. But as with all the other times, I gained again. This time topping out at 286. I stayed there for several months. In August 2016, after a physical therapy session, I saw a flyer for a weight loss surgery seminar that the hospital was hosting. It got me thinking about weight loss surgery again for, like, the millionth time in the past 20 years. But I already knew where I wanted to go. The thing was convincing the one person who would talk me out of it just like she had every other time that I thought about it...my mom. I didn't have to worry anymore about my husband forbidding it as he had for years because he had died in 2013. So the issue was how to get mom to realize that this was going to be the best option for me. One of the local hospitals was hosting a seminar soon. I would take her to it. I had already talked to the nice people at Roller Weight Loss and had already watched their online seminar and had made up my mind that was where I wanted to go for my surgery, but mom wouldn't watch the seminar. But she would go to the seminar being hosted a couple towns over. Two weeks later, after we left the seminar, my mom looked at me and said, "You have to have this surgery. I don't want to lose you." And that was that. After I got the money together for the registration fee for Roller (my birthday present from me to me last year) I scheduled my first appointment. Unfortunately, that appointment couldn't be until November 4.

November 4 came faster than I imagined it would. That day felt like i was put through the proverbial wringer. Fasting blood work, nutrition appointment, EKG, breathing test, H-Pylori test (that was a first. Had never heard of that one before), chest x-rays, OMG! This was absolutely insane. Though, I was grateful that they were being so thorough with my care. They don't want to take anything to chance. So, now, I'm getting ready for my fourth Diet and Exercise appointment on February 6. Less than a week away. Then I have March and April Appointments to get through and then I will be scheduled to have surgery within a few weeks of that last appointment.

Easy breezy rice and cheezy, right? Yeah, not for me. No. See, I haven't lost much weight since that first month. I think I've lost 14 pounds since November 4. And it's entirely my fault! Over the past few weeks I've been doing a lot of thinking about WHY I haven't stuck with my pre-op diet. Don't I want to lose weight? Don't I want to see my future grand babies? Don't I want to see my daughter graduate veterinary school? Don't I want to see my little squirt graduate high school? YES!!! I want all those things! So what's the big deal? What's my major malfunction preventing me from getting what I want? My head is majorly screwed up. That's my major malfunction. So, I decided to do something about it. I went back to the therapist yesterday. I did it. I finally kicked my inner chicken back. My inner chicken is still there. Yes, it is. But for this, it's backed off. I'll be going every week and a half to get help with my major depression and anxiety disorders. To get help with pain management that has me in tears often because of my upper back pain. To get help conquering my personal demons that prevent me from getting a good night's sleep most nights.

Why haven't I gone sooner you might ask. Well, it's a deep subject. I went to several after my husband committed suicide in 2013. I only found one that began to help. Then I was fired from a job I had had for nearly 15 years because i was always sick and hadn't put in a 40 hour work week in almost a year, thus losing me my insurance and the therapist that was beginning to help. Then I tried the only therapy place that Medicaid would cover. That ended up being a total disaster. You know, seeing someone maybe once a month if you're lucky when you don't want to be on the face of the earth anymore doesn't help a whole heck of a lot. So, March 15, 2014 I stopped going to that place. Stopped getting help of any kind. Tried to find a boyfriend. Found a good friend that helped as much as he could. Now, I help him at his shop when I can, but I barely hear from him. It makes me really sad. And I went back to that unhelpful place yesterday because I realized that I can't do this by myself. And I can't lean on my mom for everything because she has her own personal demons to fight and she leans on me to battle those and I'm afraid (scared to death really) that she's developing dementia like my Grams did.

The lady I met yesterday I like. And the funniest, most ironic thing possible happened. I found out that she is in the pre-op stages of getting the same surgery I'm getting through the same clinic that I'm going through. My new therapist is going through the same thing I am as far as bariatric surgery goes. Crazy, right?! I'm trying to understand why I do the things I do. Why it is that EVERY SINGLE Blessed time that i am going good on a diet (I've lost a ton of weight, people notice and compliment me, I'm getting into smaller clothes) I just stop. Just. Flat. Stop. It makes no sense to me. Not even a penny of sense. Why do I jeopardize every diet? Why do I always blame it on someone else? It's someone else that's sabotaging me. Not me. I know that to be a cart full of bologna. But it's what I do. And I want to know why. I mean I know I'm scared of not knowing what I'm going to look like afterwards. I know I'm scared of having to change practically every aspect of myself (the way I dress, the way I eat, the way I organize things, the way I plan things) And that, I think would be scary for anyone, let alone someone with anxiety issues and major depression amongst several other things.

That is why I'm starting this journal of sorts, this blog. To chronicle these steps I'm going to be taking to a new me. Hopefully, by the end of it all, I will be able to see someone in the mirror that I'm proud of being. Someone that I'm not ashamed of. Someone who is able to stand up and take charge of her life, goals, and new dreams. Someone who can kick her inner chicken and its poop kickers to the curb, pluck it, and have it for dinner!

God and Heaven Bless and Protect you always.